Rebuild
by stargirl0123
Summary: The Wizarding World has been destroyed, and it's up to Hermione to rebuild it. Check out my sweet banner on HPFF! I'm KML there!


**Rebuild**

Hermione Granger sat on the window seat of the Girl's Dormitory and leaned against the window frame. She watched the sky morph into sunrise shades, turning first from starlit black to midnight blue, then from midnight blue to a clear blue. The horizon was tinged with shades of rose pink and orange-juice yellow-orange. Finally, the very first crescent of the sun appeared and a faint light began to sweep the valley.

Hermione locked eyes with the sun. She stared at it until her eyes burned, but the sun merely returned its lidless gaze. What do you want from me? the sun asked. I can no more stop what is to come today than any mortal can stop time.

Hermione's gaze dropped to the forest below, and the sun continued to rise. First it touched the tips of the trees of the forest, throwing them into sharp relief against the shadows. Then it cane to caress the sweeping lawns spread before the forest, catching the dew and sending up small rainbows. Next it met the lake, sending shafts of brilliant light into its dark depths and making the surface sparkle. Finally, it touched the time-worn stone of Hogwarts itself, warming it. The sun played on Hermione's pale face, still gazing out the window.

She turned. Four of the room's beds still held occupants; the fifth, closest to the window, lay empty, its sheets swirled into a complex pattern by her churning during the night. She straightened them, wishing to leave them in good condition after today. Nothing personal remained on her bed save Crookshanks, who would vacate the bed in his own time.

She dressed quietly and locked her trunk. It held seven years worth of books, potions materials, and the few clean clothes she had not already sent home. She blinked away a tear. The common room was empty as she passed, and Hogwarts was quiet as she walked through its halls. The front door creaked as she slipped through, but no other students or staff members were awake to hear. She stopped and sat beneath the spreading oak tree on the lake's shore. A few yards away lay the white marble tomb.

It was then that Hermione gave herself over to crying.

She cried for the occupant of the tomb, the life blood of the school. The school was dead without him. She cried for the school's Headmistress, who had been broken beyond anybody. She now had to figure out a way to run a dead school. She cried for her boyfriend, dead from the merciless hands of Death Eaters. She cried for her best friend, too broken to return to school. She cried for her class, bewildered and shocked and not knowing what to do in such a seemingly empty world. She cried for students now orphans from the horrific reality that is war. She cried for the First Years, so lost and confused by the sudden revelation of magic and its evils. They would inherit a broken world to fix. She cried for those who were dead – for Dumbledore, for Ron, for Lupin, for Tonks, for Alastor, for Neville, for Ginny, for Molly, for Fred and George. She cried for those they had left behind. Finally, she cried for herself.

Life was empty. Ron was dead; Harry was too unstable to return to Hogwarts – he had seen too much. He had been offered a post as an Auror without any training, and he had immediately accepted. But she knew that he derived no enjoyment from the job that his ultimate enemy had been destroyed. Hermione needed something to do. She wanted to help, to help rebuild. So she had returned to Hogwarts to finish her education so she could join the ranks of Healers. It was her way of helping. It was her way of Healing the wounds of the war, especially the emotional and mental scars.

She had always pictured graduating Hogwarts with and O on all of her N.E.W.T.s and entering the professional world with Harry and Ron by her side. That vision of graduation, she now realized, was never to happen. For one, she was eighteen now, instead of seventeen. Hogwarts had closed for a year during the war. It had almost been a defense mechanism – Voldemort couldn't hurt all the students if they weren't all in one place. Hermione was also about to graduate with a class half the size of what she had anticipated. Some students were dead, and their families grieved. Others, like Harry, had gone to join the professional world, filling the shoes of those they had lost. Still others, like Luna, couldn't come back to Hogwarts after the war. They were too scarred. Luna had lost Neville.

Hermione grew slightly angry. Nobody remembered the Muggles who had died. Everybody talked about rebuilding the Wizarding world, but nobody talked about rebuilding the Muggle world. Fifty Muggles dead of "mysterious" causes. The government of England had been besieged and was still trying to dig itself out. Nobody remembered her parents.

She began to cry again as she remembered watching them die. The Death Eaters had held her and forced her to watch a Voldemort advanced first on her father, then on her mother. At lease they hadn't pleaded. They had died more honorably than any of the Death Eaters.

Only Harry had understood. He had protected her as he picked off the Death Eaters. He had protected her until Ron had come, but Ron was dead now.

Hermione had watched while Harry faced Voldemort. She had wanted to help him with all her heart, but he had placed her out of the way and told her that he didn't want her hurt. Still, she watched. Their wands had linked in Priori Incantatum as both tried to cast "Avada Kedavra" on the other. It was a test of wills. Voldemort had been more powerful, but Harry had been more determined. How could he not have been, having just watched Ginny die? The force of Voldemort's collective evil returning had burst the web of light and allowed Harry an opening. With all of his Horcruxes destroyed, he truly was dead. It had just been so unbelievable, so surreal, that Harry had gone into shock. They had them begun to find the dead.

It had been a year, but it was still fresh in Hermione's mind. It contrasted so violently with the idea that she was about to graduate from Hogwarts. It just didn't seem right. And yet is had to be right. They had to rebuild, because a new Wizarding world was on their shoulders. There were still dark wizards to catch. There were still people to Heal. And that was their job. This was their time. Hermione was up for it. Hermione was ready to rebuild her own life.

"Miss?" It was Dobby. He had returned to work at Hogwarts. "Miss, it is time for you to be graduating."

"Thank you, Dobby," she said quietly.

"I is going to miss you, miss," Dobby said.

"Please call me Hermione, Dobby," she replied. And then Hermione had a stroke of brilliance. "Dobby," she asked, "how would you and Winky like to come and work for me? I would pay you."

"I would be liking that, miss."


End file.
